


We May Have a Van

by Jeevey



Category: U2 (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-17 07:54:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17556356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeevey/pseuds/Jeevey
Summary: It is February of 1981, and the van is cold.





	We May Have a Van

Flickering lights jumped and slid along the windowless interior of the van. The hum of the road was loud in Edge's ears and the rumble of wheels vibrated up from the bare floor into his skull as he leaned against the steel wall. It would be several hours until they reached Basel. The van, he thought, was a major improvement over his mother's sedan but not exactly the nirvana that they had hoped.

In the flashing lights of passing traffic he could see Paul's stolid silhouette at the wheel and Bono beside him, gesturing widely as he talked. This was the arrangement they had created over the weeks of touring; Paul would know where they were going and Bono would keep talking. Edge grinned as he watched Bono's hands rise and fall with the pitch of his voice, audible but indistinct here in the back. It looked like he was reminiscing about the voluptuous bartender at their last stop, or else working himself into one of the long stream of consciousness comic monologues that sometimes inspired him while journeying. Often he kept everyone in stitches for hours on these late drives. But after tonight's show the band had climbed into the van tipsy and tired, settling into whiskey-soaked drowsiness and leaving Paul to form an audience of exactly one.

It was chilly down here on the van floor. Edge propped his duffle behind his back, murmured apologies to Adam next to him, and pulled his leather jacket close.

The van had been a major victory for Paul. When the band learned that they were to tour Europe in their own van they finally felt certain that he was earning his keep. Borrowed from a friend of a friend in Zurich, it had room for all their equipment and bags and, with careful arrangement, to stretch their legs as well. Larry leaned against his kit a little closer to the front of the van, snoring. He was still a terrible lightweight. His head lolled with each bump in the road, as it had done ever since loading out from Berlin. Likely he would sleep like an angel all the way. Edge heard a short exhale, and saw that Adam was watching him too.

“I feel guilty for bringing him out here sometimes,” Adam said. “He looks like he should be tucked into bed after his homework, not driving all night to a shit hotel.”

“Tell that to the girls in Berlin. They'd have been happy to tuck him in.”

“Oh, there will more in Munich," Adam said comfortably. "Young Lawrence is getting quite an education in Europe, isn't he?”

Edge laughed. He had received some unexpected education of his own here on their first overseas tour. They all had. They found Europe surprisingly warm to U2, and the German girls were very warm indeed. Adam gave a knowing leer and offered bottle of whiskey. Edge took a little, then pulled out the crocheted afghan that his gran made for him. She had demanded, humiliatingly, that he take it on tour, and his mother saw to it that he did. It was the most uncool thing he had ever owned and he never brought it out in daylight. But Gran was right. It was warm, and the others didn’t tease him much because they could tell that he secretly loved it.

Adam snorted gently as he shook it out. Edge gave him a dirty look and tucked himself in as best he could. Just as he was dropping off he felt Adam shiver. Silently he extended one edge of the blanket, and Adam took it. They propped their shoulders together against the side of the van and settled to sleep.

The noise of the road seemed louder when Edge awoke, groggily. Something was different. Why was it so unreasonably hot, and so humid? And there a tickling sensation on his lip. The duffle behind him was softer, warmer. Somebody must have put a cushion under his head. That was nice. He snuffled down, adjusting it under his ear.

Then it moved slightly in response.

Not a pillow. Shoulder, collarbone. And the tickling sensation on his lip, breath. Adam shifted under him. Edge struggled in his foggy doze to understand. A heavy weight on his head, warm and slightly mobile; Adam's head resting on his. Heavy warmth around his shoulder-- Adam's arm. His own legs drawn up, knees curled on Adam's thigh. And a scent- unfamiliar, comforting, terrifying- the scent of Adam's bare neck just under his nose. Fucking intoxicating and totally wrong.

Edge tried to orient to his surroundings. Up front Paul and Bono still talked, the radio still crackled, Larry slept on like an angel. Everything appeared to be normal. Everything but this.

Edge moved under Adam's head. It bobbed dangerously. Edge shifted again, hoping to wake him without startling him.

Adam moved softly, comfortably, without alarm. Moved to draw Edge a little closer, to settle his cheek on Edge's forehead, making a relaxed noise in his throat.

Edge could barely whisper, could barely move his lips.

_Adam. It's not. It's me._

Adam moved a little closer, so that his mouth was at the bridge of Edge's nose.

_Hm?_

His voice was not a sound, just a shape of air.

_Are you? It's-- ehm. It's me here. Edge._

_Yes_.

_Just. Ehm. I thought you'd want to know. I thought, maybe you were confused. Are you okay?_

_Just fine. You?_

Every time Adam spoke Edge could feel the lift of his chest, his breath on his face. Okay. Christ.

_Yeah. I'm fine._

He turned his head to whisper even more quietly.

_Do you- do you know where we are? What we're doing?_

_They had a piss break a bit ago. You didn't wake up. There's still a way further to go._

_You should have woken me. Did you need to get up? I was sleepy._

_Sweet Edge._

Their lips were nearly touching. He could actually feel them move as Adam spoke, so nearly on his own that he could taste his breath. In a flash, he was angry.

_I am not sweet. I'm a bad-ass shredder, and I could slay you all._

_I know you are. Of course you are._

Edge opened his mouth to reply and felt the ghost of Adam’s lip, too light be called touch, stopping his thoughts. All scent and motion, much too light to be kissing. They were not kissing.

_Adam, why are you. This isn't, um, what I thought._

Edge was going to move away very soon. He needed to move away. He couldn't understand why his neck was craned toward Adam's face, why his hand rested on his knee. Why Adam's arm was sliding down and closing around his ribs. His head was still light from the whiskey earlier and Adam's breath seemed to renew all that had settled, with his scent of alcohol, cigarettes and animal warmth. He smelled like a creature--like some sort of gorgeous thing with a pelt that Edge would run his fingers through.

The shape of Adam's lip at his open mouth, not touching. Just breathing. Edge tipped his head to breathe better, to taste the air that was warmed by his skin. All he could hear was the deep rumble of the tires on the road, the vibrations of it coming through his spine. Fuck. What was happening?

_Adam. I like... girls. I like girls._

_I do too. We love girls._

_Yeah._

A delicate line was drawn on Edge's upper lip, edge to center. God. He should move away, right fucking now. He inclined his head upward, opened his mouth again to say something, to protest this crazy proximity. Adam's mouth closed on his.

Tongue teasing at the front of his mouth, still light, still nearly breath. Edge shivered deeply.

_Okay?_

His voice briefly deep, between touches on Edge's lips.

_Yeah._

He couldn't get his breath, couldn't think.

_I- this is insane._

Adam leaned back. Unbelievably, nothing had changed. Bono had a bigger fish tale to tell; his gestures were wider and the swoop and pitch of his voice more dramatic. Paul was nodding emphatically, occasionally putting in a comment of his own. Across and a little up from them, Larry slept with his mouth open. It was dark around them- very dark. They must certainly be invisible from the front, but it felt like they were sitting under a streetlight. He turned back to Adam. He was staring at nothing, his face turned a little away and a sheen on his glasses obscuring his eyes.

_;Ad. What- I don't understand. I didn't mean-_

Adam's chest heaved once hard and then his mouth was back on Edge's, almost too quickly for him to catch a breath, to reach and meet him.

Deeper now, and harder. Hungry awkward angle, tongue on teeth. Stubble of beard under Edge's tongue, a noise he intended to stifle and couldn't.

_Shh._

_Fuck._

His hand still rested on Adam's knee. Thigh, really. Adam's hand was inside his jacket, holding onto a tight fistful of shirt. Edge ran his thumb over the lean round thigh. The inner seam was a road leading up the long leg. And right there, suddenly, he stopped. A breathless moment passed. With a growl that was not quite sound, Adam scooped up Edge's nearest knee and cradled it against him, his wrist pressing dangerously at the crux of Edge's body. Danger. Edge ran his thumb again, not breathing. Adam shifted downward.

_Edge. My flies. Can you?_

Hesitation.

_Edge._

_That's... gay. Only fags do that._

Adam made a silent sound of dismissal and they kissed on. Edge's other hand moved to Adam's chest. It found a tiny hard spot there, which hardened further under his touch. Adam gripped his shoulder, fingers dug into the leather. God, he was so strong. Now and then his grip tightened erratically, pulling Edge still further in. It sent Edge's stomach plummeting into immeasurable space. Adam bit his lip, gasped into his mouth.

_Fuck. I need to come._

Edge took a desperate breath.

_If... if you did it to yourself. And I did it to myself, that's different. Like a circle jerk, only just two of us._

_Two of us._

Adam took his hand away to work his belt. Just the sight of it gave Edge a sick pitch of anticipation and fear. He turned away, looked down at his own middle. Fuck. This was huge. Wasn't it? It didn't matter; he was about to burst or die. He slid out the buckle of his own belt under Gran's afghan. He couldn't help a soundless sigh as he released himself from his trousers. This was insanity, hot in his hand in the dark van. Larry across from them sleeping, his head crooked over his own shoulder. Bono and Paul awake, just a few feet away. They were quieter now, talking less. Did the rumbling tires cover as much sound to them as it did to him?

Adam sat looking at him, impassive. Maybe thoughtful, or maybe nearly laughing, Gran's crochet over him as well. Under there, was he...?

Adam's upper lip was nearly as full as the lower, with tiny lines that appeared when he pressed them together. Edge closed his mouth over it, sucking softly. It tightened. Yes. There was the motion of his shoulder, slight and unmistakable. Edge's hand closed over himself, working the foreskin lightly over the head. God, they were so close to one another. Mouths pressed hot and open. The long line of Adam's leg alongside his own, not quite touching. They were not touching.

Edge gave a sudden involuntary jerk. Loud hum of the tires on the road, steel floor vibrating underneath, utter silence between them. Adam looming slightly, his knee rising up to incline his body toward Edge. The slide of his own fingers up and down, as if over the neck of his guitar. Adam's shoulder moving more strongly now, and a soundless grunt. He caught Edge's lip and swept it roughly with his tongue. Edge bit him away and pushed back to kiss deeper. God, he was getting close. Adam's knee came up further, his body moving closer to Edge's front, and he was seized with a horrifying temptation to move forward, to close the distance between them. He could feel the increasing tension in Adam's shoulder, the rapid stroke of his forearm just brushing his side. The scent of such a gorgeous pelt, his tongue down Adam's throat, he needed it-

Adam broke away, gasping.

_Ahh._

_Shhh._

Adam's body tremoring next to his. The blanket slipped down and his flat belly heaving-

Nothing to hear, nothing to see, as Edge came in absolute silence. Just the tight hard wave of lostness and Adam breathing hard beside him. His head fell over onto Adam and he collapsed in dizziness and disbelief.

After a few minutes, a long, long silence, Edge realized he was sitting with his head buried fast in Adam's neck, with a handful of spooge and nowhere to go with it. He couldn't even zip his trousers one handed. He looked up and saw Adam frozen in the same awkward attitude, but his mouth quirked in a guilty secret. His eyes slid over to meet the Edge's and crinkled in helpless out-loud laughter.

_Adam, be quiet. Are you mad?_

_What are you going to do with it?_

His voice, if possible, was deeper and more resonant than before.

_Shut up._

_Come on, what?_

_Stop it._

_You know. Do it._

_Fuck you._

He was right; there was nothing else. It couldn't go on his clothes, everybody would see. He couldn't get into his bag one handed. Poking around in the van for loose laundry would be sure to awaken Larry. Edge scrunched his face as he picked up the corner of Gran's crochet and rubbed his hand dry, then rolled his eyes at Adam's stiff pose.

_Go on then._

"Is everything alright back there?"

Edge nearly shat himself at the sudden sound of Paul's voice.

"Fine. We were just talking about a piss break soon." Adam replied in a perfectly normal tone. Edge stared in amazement.

"We just stopped an hour ago. Can't you wait a while?"

"Oh, sure." Adam made a regretful face at Edge as he dried his hand on the blanket. "Whenever Larry wakes up will be soon enough."

"Just let us know if you really need it."

Adam raised his eyebrows wickedly. "I'll let you know if I need it," he assured Paul.

Edge sat choking in embarrassment as Adam began to tuck him in, placing the dirty ends carefully nearest the floor. It was a long time before he could find any kind of voice.

_That... that wasn't gay._

Adam was carefully wedging himself into the corner formed by Edge, the duffle and the van wall.

"No," he said quietly, as he folded his arm around himself. Edge felt his warm weight settle again against his shoulder. "No. That wasn't gay at all."

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you get to thinking about what exactly those early tours were like, and you realize that there absolutely must have been a van involved, and then you do things like start researching the itinerary they followed in 1981 and wonder exactly what the road from Berlin to Munich was like, and what exactly...well.
> 
> And then you read U2 by U2 and are elated to discover that there was in fact a van, as there must have been, and that it was the sum of all their adorable hopes, and that they did make overnight drives packed into it like sardines in sleeping bags, and all came tumbling out at once when stopped by German police. And when that happens, your life as a fan is pretty much perfect.
> 
> Also, shout out to Cameron Crowe, who wrote adorable ambitious road babies so well in Almost Famous.


End file.
